


Break My Heart, Stitch It Up Again

by azulaahai



Category: Kingkiller Chronicles - Patrick Rothfuss
Genre: Canon divergent somewhat, F/F, Fluff, Pining, idk what this is, set during 'the name of the wind'
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 19:20:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20431121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azulaahai/pseuds/azulaahai
Summary: Night, cold, starlit, and Denna’s knocking at a window.She who’s inside opens immediately, almost as if she’s been waiting.“You shouldn’t be here.” Robe wrapped around her, her breath a cloud of steam in the chill of the night. Denna bites back a smile.“I know. Can I come in?”Two separate one-shots featuring the Denna x Mola pairing.





	1. Injured

**Author's Note:**

> Have only read one book in this series, hah. Apologies for any mistakes.

She was, indeed, pathetic.

Her unfortunate state had begun a week prior, when, during a late night walk with Kvothe, she’d taken of her shoes and been klutzy enough to step on a sharp rock, that had sliced a wound in her foot. It’d begun bleeding quite heavily; Kvothe had insisted she get it looked at, claiming he “knew someone who could help.” (Ever the mystery man, that one.) He’d led her to her room at the inn she was staying at, returning what felt like an eternity later with a woman in tow. 

And as a matter of fact, that was the exact moment Denna had become pathetic.

The woman, politely introducing herself as ‘Mola’, was eye-catching in a quirky, unique sort of way. Tall. Pale. A few years older. Blonde hair to her shoulders, eyes as green as … as… emeralds in candlelight. Spring grass after rain. 

See?  _ Pathetic _ .

Denna was so distracted, in fact, that she sort of forgot about the whole ‘I-might-die-from-blood-loss’ situation going on, forgot about why Mola was there, forgot Kvothe was even in the room if she was being honest. Pathetic, indeed.

So when Mola grabbed her foot as she laid there on the bed, Denna was surprised (but not entirely disapproving, new pathetic state and all.) She had soft hands, this Mola. Denna held back a content sigh, making Kvothe give her a strange look as he sat by the bed. It took Denna a good half minute or so to figure out that Mola hadn’t grabbed her foot in some sort of unconventional romantic gesture, but to inspect the wound. 

“This needs stitches”, Mola said decisively, eyes expertly assessing the foot situation. (She was clever  _ and _ had soft hands? Tehlu, Denna was falling in love. Though it might still be that blood loss talking.)

“Pain killers?” Kvothe asked, and, pathetic or not, Denna felt a little frightened.

“In my bag.” Mola nodded toward her purse - Kvothe grabbed it, his hand emerging from it a few moments later holding a tiny jar of herbs. He poured some out in his hands, measuring it with fingerfuls until he seemed satisfied with the amount. They were handed to Denna.

“Chew these”, Kvothe said. Those sounded like the last words you heard before you died. Denna shook her head. “Come on. It’s to ease the pain.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“Let me, Kvothe.” Mola spoke up. She had a good voice, Denna absentmindedly thought. It was high-pitched and a little hoarse. A good singing voice. They could do a duet. “Denna?” Mola said softly, and Denna felt a bit like she was dreaming. It was a good feeling. “You cut your foot, Denna.”

“Yes”, Denna muttered. “I remember.” Kvothe snorted in the background.

“Good. Well, I’m going to have to stitch it up.”

“Do whatever you want.” She meant it.

“It’s going to hurt, Denna.”

“Sounds bad.” Was she really dreaming now, or did Mola smile?

“It  _ is _ bad. If you chew these herbs, it will be easier. Sounds fair?”

“Yes.” What were words, anyway? Denna had trouble remembering them. “Fair.”

“Then chew.” Mola attempted a stern look, but Denna thought she saw a smile in her eyes. 

So Denna opened her mouth and chewed the damned herbs. They made her line of sight a little blurry. Still, she could feel Mola grabbing her foot again, gently but firmly starting to remove the improvised bandage they’d applied to the wound, and again, she thought the same thing.

_ Soft hands. _

Pathetic.

She drifted in and out, waking to the sound of hushed voices. Kvothe’s, and that voice again - the one she wanted to sing a duet with.

“... kind of you.” Kvothe.

“It is quite alright. I’ll check in on her in a few days, if the wound isn’t any better.”

And despite her fogged state of mind, Denna almost found herself wishing that the wound wouldn’t get any better.

She was, indeed, pathetic.


	2. Nightmares

Night, cold, starlit, and Denna’s knocking at a window.

She who’s inside opens immediately, almost as if she’s been waiting.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Robe wrapped around her, her breath a cloud of steam in the chill of the night. Denna bites back a smile.

“I know. Can I come in?”

Mola steps aside, lets her in without a moment’s hesitation.   
_ Tehlu _ , Denna loves her for that.

“Denna, this is Mola.”

Weeks earlier, at the Eolian. Kvothe waved a hand from one to the other, introducing them swiftly. Denna smiled at this Mola, trying not to think about what it would feel like to run a hand through that light hair. 

Denna didn’t have any female friends.

Until then.

Now she’s inside, not sure what to do.

Denna’s been here before, but always in the daylight. The bed is ruffled now, as if Mola just stepped out of it. A strange sort of warmth in Denna at the thought.

“What’s the matter?” Mola’s voice. Denna spins around, a little startled by the question. “Why did you come here?” Mola clarifies. Denna supposes it’s a fair question, it being midnight and all.

“I’m … I just …” There’s no  _ one _ answer. She was driven out of bed by the dreams that still haunt her, and she couldn’t stay in her room, she just couldn’t.

So out on the streets she went, stars glittering above, and here she is and she isn’t entirely sure how that happened. “Bad dreams”, she whispers, aware of how childish it sounds.

Mola doesn’t say anything for awhile, regarding her silently with big green eyes.

“Do you want to stay the night?” Mola finally asks, gently, and ridiculously, Denna feels her eyes watering.

It’s been so long since someone was nice to her just for the sake of being nice. 

They all look at her with such hungry, expectant eyes, touch her with greedy fingers, talk about her in possessive terms. Even Kvothe, though he tries not to, sometimes looks at her as if he wants to swallow her whole.

And now, here Denna is, with the one person she’d actually  _ want _ to be swallowed whole by (metaphorically, at least), and that person just offered Denna a place in her bed, without ulterior motives.

A strange world, this. 

“Yes”, she finally whispers. “I’ll stay, if I may.” 

The warmth of a body next to hers, Mola’s steady breathing beside her. Denna’s eyelids close almost by themselves.

For the first time she can remember, she sleeps through the night, no dark dreams dragging her back to reality.

“Denna?”

Morning, now, sunlight creeping in the room. Denna meant to sneak out before Mola awoke, more than embarrassed by her late night impulse in the cold light of day. But the sound of the window opening must have woken Mola - she sits up in the bed now, blonde hair adorably messy and eyes still soaked with sleep. She’s called Denna’s name.

“Sorry. I thought I’d get out of your way,” Denna says with a small smile. Mola doesn’t seem convinced.

“Sleep well?” Mola has her professional voice on - the one she uses when she’s assessing patients.

“Yes. Mola, I - thank you.” She turns again.

She is terrible at saying goodbye.

“Denna?” Mola calls after her again. She freezes. “I just thought … if you have any more bad dreams … I just wanted to say … you can come here, if you need to. You’ll always be welcome, I mean … you can come here anytime you like.”

A song in Denna’s blood as she moves trough the city. The cold doesn’t affect her. 

She’s immortal.

It’s not until she’s almost back at the inn that she realises it.

_ You can come here anytime you like. _

Seven words.

Denna almost laughs.


End file.
